


This route has tolls

by laughingpineapple



Category: Original Work
Genre: Gen, Magical Realism-Adjacent, POV Second Person, Trick or Treat: Trick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-31
Updated: 2018-10-31
Packaged: 2019-08-06 12:46:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16388003
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laughingpineapple/pseuds/laughingpineapple
Summary: You passed your destination long ago, like in a dream. You felt that the sense of longing would be directions enough, a compass of quiet aching.





	This route has tolls

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Silex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silex/gifts).



“ _The place where you can say you are sorry_ does not exist,” the GPS says again, black letters blinking over a blank map. It's the same answer as yesterday and the day before yesterday, and it will remain the same answer for as long as its circuits are well-soldered and its screen stays scratchless and bright. So wear it out. Let it learn. It knows the way. It has to.

 

“In 400 metres, turn left and follow the lone truck. Trust it. It means no harm,” it says one evening while you are driving through fields that could be the countryside of your youth, but a quick glance at the map shows you that the street names are wrong, or have all changed. The device secured to your dashboard has two loose screws by now and a line of moss growing out of its right juncture; software updates are a distant memory. Hard to say if the world it sees and the world you see are more or less similar than what they used to be. You turn left. The truck has just merged onto your road. You follow it. It is a pleasant change, this foreign mass catching the farthest glimmer of your headlights, plowing along like a muddy mammoth from ages past migrating from an ice age into oblivion. It speeds up and you are alone again.

 

“In 250 metres, ignore the light coming from the trees. Stay on the road. In 350 metres, ignore the music that still reaches your ears. It comes from the same place as the light. Do not search for answers. It is meant to remain a mystery.”

 

“At the junction, the cracks in the ground form a map, but you cannot stop. Memorize it. In 500 metres, stay on the road.”

 

“When it's just you and your headlights in the black of night, slow down. Watch out for deer.”

 

You find it easy to follow these directions - and now you catch a glimpse of a wild animal crossing the road, it didn't look like a deer but you realize you don't know enough about deer to make a definitive assessment. You could have followed these directions earlier, maybe, but earlier you didn't use to be this worn-out, you hadn't yet learned how to lend your ear.

 

“At the roundabout, take the fourth exit, back where you came from. Maintain the same speed. Take note of the differences.” The GPS’s robotic voice is a scratchy whisper by now, a stream of struggling words and static guiding you through the night. “Remember that others are driving on this road. The fact that you cannot see them does not make them any less real. The fact that the road may not be the same does not make it any less real. At the too-bright light pole that turns on when nobody is near, turn…” The static is taking over. The screen flickers. “Your destination is…”

 

You couldn't hear the last direction, so you stop by the roadside to refresh your search. The screen stays black. The moss grows. You cannot see them, but you know they pass you by. You are lost and alone.

Above you, above a line of trees, the stars are beautiful like they were on that day.


End file.
